BOOK IIIARGUMENTTelemachus arriving at Pylus, enquires of Nestor concerning Ulysses. Nestor relates to him all that he knows or has heard of the Greecians since their departure from the siege of Troy, but not being able to give him any satisfactory account of Ulysses, refers him to Menelaus. At evening Minerva quits Telemachus, but discovers herself in going. Nestor sacrifices to the Goddess, and the solemnity ended, Telemachus sets forth for Sparta in one of Nestor’s chariots, and accompanied by Nestor’s son, Pisistratus.The sun, emerging from the lucid waves,Ascended now the brazen vault with lightFor the inhabitants of earth and heav’n,When in their bark at Pylus they arrived,City of Neleus. On the shore they foundThe people sacrificing; bulls they slewBlack without spot, to Neptune azure-hair’d.On ranges nine of seats they sat; each rangeReceived five hundred, and to each they madeAllotment equal of nine sable bulls.10The feast was now begun; these eating satThe entrails, those stood off’ring to the GodThe thighs, his portion, when the IthacansPush’d right ashore, and, furling close the sails,And making fast their moorings, disembark’d.Forth came Telemachus, by Pallas led,Whom thus the Goddess azure-eyed address’d.Telemachus! there is no longer roomFor bashful fear, since thou hast cross’d the floodWith purpose to enquire what land conceals20Thy father, and what fate hath follow’d him.Advance at once to the equestrian ChiefNestor, within whose bosom lies, perhaps,Advice well worthy of thy search; entreatHimself, that he will tell thee only truth,Who will not lye, for he is passing wise.To whom Telemachus discrete replied.Ah Mentor! how can I advance, how greetA Chief like him, unpractis’d as I amIn manag’d phrase? Shame bids the youth beware30How he accosts the man of many years.But him the Goddess answer’d azure-eyed,Telemachus! Thou wilt, in part, thyselfFit speech devise, and heav’n will give the rest;For thou wast neither born, nor hast been train’dTo manhood, under unpropitious Pow’rs.So saying, Minerva led him thence, whom heWith nimble steps attending, soon arrivedAmong the multitude. There Nestor sat,And Nestor’s sons, while, busily the feast40Tending, his num’rous followers roasted, some,The viands, some, transfix’d them with the spits.They seeing guests arrived, together allAdvanced, and, grasping courteously their hands,Invited them to sit; but first, the sonOf Nestor, young Pisistratus, approach’d,Who, fast’ning on the hands of both, besideThe banquet placed them, where the beach was spreadWith fleeces, and where Thrasymedes satHis brother, and the hoary Chief his Sire.50To each a portion of the inner partsHe gave, then fill’d a golden cup with wine,Which, tasted first, he to the daughter boreOf Jove the Thund’rer, and her thus bespake.Oh guest! the King of Ocean now adore!For ye have chanced on Neptune’s festival;And, when thou hast, thyself, libation madeDuly, and pray’r, deliver to thy friendThe gen’rous juice, that he may also makeLibation; for he, doubtless, seeks, in prayer60The Immortals, of whose favour all have need.But, since he younger is, and with myselfCoeval, first I give the cup to thee.He ceas’d, and to her hand consign’d the cup,Which Pallas gladly from a youth receivedSo just and wise, who to herself had firstThe golden cup presented, and in pray’rFervent the Sov’reign of the Seas adored.Hear, earth-encircler Neptune! O vouchsafeTo us thy suppliants the desired effect70Of this our voyage; glory, first, bestowOn Nestor and his offspring both, then grantTo all the Pylians such a gracious boonAs shall requite their noble off’ring well.Grant also to Telemachus and meTo voyage hence, possess’d of what we soughtWhen hither in our sable bark we came.So Pallas pray’d, and her own pray’r herselfAccomplish’d. To Telemachus she gaveThe splendid goblet next, and in his turn80Like pray’r Ulysses’ son also preferr’d.And now (the banquet from the spits withdrawn)They next distributed sufficient shareTo each, and all were sumptuously regaled.At length, (both hunger satisfied and thirst)Thus Nestor, the Gerenian Chief, began.Now with more seemliness we may enquire,After repast, what guests we have received.Our guests! who are ye? Whence have ye the wavesPlough’d hither? Come ye to transact concerns90Commercial, or at random roam the DeepLike pirates, who with mischief charged and woeTo foreign States, oft hazard life themselves?Him answer’d, bolder now, but still discrete,Telemachus. For Pallas had his heartWith manly courage arm’d, that he might askFrom Nestor tidings of his absent Sire,And win, himself, distinction and renown.Oh Nestor, Neleus’ son, glory of Greece!Thou askest whence we are. I tell thee whence.100From Ithaca, by the umbrageous woodsOf Neritus o’erhung, by private need,Not public, urged, we come. My errand isTo seek intelligence of the renown’dUlysses; of my noble father, prais’dFor dauntless courage, whom report proclaimsConqueror, with thine aid, of sacred Troy.We have already learn’d where other ChiefsWho fought at Ilium, died; but Jove concealsEven the death of my illustrious Sire110In dull obscurity; for none hath heardOr confident can answer, where he dy’d;Whether he on the continent hath fall’nBy hostile hands, or by the waves o’erwhelm’dOf Amphitrite, welters in the Deep.For this cause, at thy knees suppliant, I begThat thou would’st tell me his disast’rous end,If either thou beheld’st that dread eventThyself, or from some wanderer of the GreeksHast heard it: for my father at his birth120Was, sure, predestin’d to no common woes.Neither through pity, or o’erstrain’d respectFlatter me, but explicit all relateWhich thou hast witness’d. If my noble SireE’er gratified thee by performance justOf word or deed at Ilium, where ye fellSo num’rous slain in fight, oh, recollectNow his fidelity, and tell me true.Then Nestor thus Gerenian Hero old.Young friend! since thou remind’st me, speaking thus,130Of all the woes which indefatigableWe sons of the Achaians there sustain’d,Both those which wand’ring on the Deep we boreWherever by Achilles led in questOf booty, and the many woes besideWhich under royal Priam’s spacious wallsWe suffer’d, know, that there our bravest fell.There warlike Ajax lies, there Peleus’ son;There, too, Patroclus, like the Gods themselvesIn council, and my son beloved there,140Brave, virtuous, swift of foot, and bold in fight,Antilochus. Nor are these sorrows all;What tongue of mortal man could all relate?Should’st thou, abiding here, five years employOr six, enquiring of the woes enduredBy the Achaians, ere thou should’st have learn’dThe whole, thou would’st depart, tir’d of the tale.For we, nine years, stratagems of all kindsDevised against them, and Saturnian JoveScarce crown’d the difficult attempt at last.150There, no competitor in wiles well-plann’dUlysses found, so far were all surpass’dIn shrewd invention by thy noble Sire,If thou indeed art his, as sure thou art,Whose sight breeds wonder in me, and thy speechHis speech resembles more than might be deem’dWithin the scope of years so green as thine.There, never in opinion, or in voiceIllustrious Ulysses and myselfDivided were, but, one in heart, contrived160As best we might, the benefit of all.But after Priam’s lofty city sack’d,And the departure of the Greeks on boardTheir barks, and when the Gods had scatter’d them,Then Jove imagin’d for the Argive hostA sorrowful return; for neither justWere all, nor prudent, therefore many foundA fate disast’rous through the vengeful ireOf Jove-born Pallas, who between the sonsOf Atreus sharp contention interposed.170They both, irregularly, and againstJust order, summoning by night the GreeksTo council, of whom many came with wineOppress’d, promulgated the cause for whichThey had convened the people. Then it wasThat Menelaus bade the general hostTheir thoughts bend homeward o’er the sacred Deep,Which Agamemnon in no sort approved.His counsel was to slay them yet at Troy,That so he might assuage the dreadful wrath180Of Pallas, first, by sacrifice and pray’r.Vain hope! he little thought how ill should speedThat fond attempt, for, once provok’d, the GodsAre not with ease conciliated again.Thus stood the brothers, altercation hotMaintaining, till at length, uprose the GreeksWith deaf’ning clamours, and with diff’ring minds.We slept the night, but teeming with disgustMutual, for Jove great woe prepar’d for all.At dawn of day we drew our gallies down190Into the sea, and, hasty, put on boardThe spoils and female captives. Half the host,With Agamemnon, son of Atreus, stay’dSupreme commander, and, embarking, halfPush’d forth. Swift course we made, for Neptune smooth’dThe waves before us of the monstrous Deep.At Tenedos arriv’d, we there perform’dSacrifice to the Gods, ardent to reachOur native land, but unpropitious Jove,Not yet designing our arrival there,200Involved us in dissension fierce again.For all the crews, followers of the King,Thy noble Sire, to gratify our Chief,The son of Atreus, chose a diff’rent course,And steer’d their oary barks again to Troy.But I, assured that evil from the GodsImpended, gath’ring all my gallant fleet,Fled thence in haste, and warlike DiomedeExhorting his attendants, also fled.At length, the Hero Menelaus join’d210Our fleets at Lesbos; there he found us heldIn deep deliberation on the lengthOf way before us, whether we should steerAbove the craggy Chios to the islePsyria, that island holding on our left,Or under Chios by the wind-swept heightsOf Mimas. Then we ask’d from Jove a sign,And by a sign vouchsafed he bade us cutThe wide sea to Eubœa sheer athwart,So soonest to escape the threat’ned harm.220Shrill sang the rising gale, and with swift prowsCleaving the fishy flood, we reach’d by nightGeræstus, where arrived, we burn’d the thighsOf num’rous bulls to Neptune, who had safeConducted us through all our perilous course.The fleet of Diomede in safety moor’dOn the fourth day at Argos, but myselfHeld on my course to Pylus, nor the windOne moment thwarted us, or died away,When Jove had once commanded it to blow.230Thus, uninform’d, I have arrived, my son!Nor of the Greecians, who are saved have heard,Or who have perish’d; but what news soe’erI have obtain’d, since my return, with truthI will relate, nor aught conceal from thee.The spear-famed Myrmidons, as rumour speaks,By Neoptolemus, illustrious sonOf brave Achilles led, have safe arrived;Safe, Philoctetes, also son renown’dOf Pæas; and Idomeneus at Crete240Hath landed all his followers who surviveThe bloody war, the waves have swallow’d none.Ye have yourselves doubtless, although remote,Of Agamemnon heard, how he return’d,And how Ægisthus cruelly contrivedFor him a bloody welcome, but himselfHath with his own life paid the murth’rous deed.Good is it, therefore, if a son surviveThe slain, since Agamemnon’s son hath wellAvenged his father’s death, slaying, himself,250Ægisthus, foul assassin of his Sire.Young friend! (for pleas’d thy vig’rous youth I view,And just proportion) be thou also bold,That thine like his may be a deathless name.Then, prudent, him answer’d Telemachus.Oh Nestor, Neleus’ son, glory of Greece!And righteous was that vengeance;hisrenownAchaia’s sons shall far and wide diffuse,To future times transmitting it in song.Ah! would that such ability the Gods260Would grant to me, that I, as well, the deedsMight punish of our suitors, whose excessEnormous, and whose bitter taunts I feelContinual, object of their subtle hate.But not for me such happiness the GodsHave twined into my thread; no, not for meOr for my father. Patience is our part.To whom Gerenian Nestor thus replied.Young friend! (since thou remind’st me of that theme)Fame here reports that num’rous suitors haunt270Thy palace for thy mother’s sake, and thereMuch evil perpetrate in thy despight.But say, endur’st thou willing their controulImperious, or because the people, sway’dBy some response oracular, inclineAgainst thee? But who knows? the time may comeWhen to his home restored, either alone,Or aided by the force of all the Greeks,Ulysses may avenge the wrong; at least,Should Pallas azure-eyed thee love, as erst280At Troy, the scene of our unnumber’d woes,She lov’d Ulysses (for I have not knownThe Gods assisting so apparentlyA mortal man, as him Minerva there)Should Pallas view thee also with like loveAnd kind solicitude, some few of thoseShould dream, perchance, of wedlock never more.Then answer thus Telemachus return’d.That word’s accomplishment I cannot hope;It promises too much; the thought alone290O’erwhelms me; an event so fortunateWould, unexpected on my part, arrive,Although the Gods themselves should purpose it.But Pallas him answer’d cærulean-eyed.Telemachus! what word was that which leap’dThe iv’ry guard7that should have fenced it in?A God, so willing, could with utmost easeSave any man, howe’er remote. Myself,I had much rather, many woes endured,Revisit home, at last, happy and safe,300Than, sooner coming, die in my own house,As Agamemnon perish’d by the artsOf base Ægisthus and the subtle Queen.Yet not the Gods themselves can save from deathAll-levelling, the man whom most they love,When Fate ordains him once to his last sleep.To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.Howe’er it interest us, let us leaveThis question, Mentor! He, I am assured,Returns no more, but hath already found310A sad, sad fate by the decree of heav’n.But I would now interrogate againNestor, and on a different theme, for himIn human rights I judge, and laws expert,And in all knowledge beyond other men;For he hath govern’d, as report proclaims,Three generations; therefore in my eyesHe wears the awful impress of a God.Oh Nestor, son of Neleus, tell me true;What was the manner of Atrides’ death,320Wide-ruling Agamemnon? Tell me whereWas Menelaus? By what means contrivedÆgisthus to inflict the fatal blow,Slaying so much a nobler than himself?Had not the brother of the Monarch reach’dAchaian Argos yet, but, wand’ring stillIn other climes, his long absence gaveÆgisthus courage for that bloody deed?Whom answer’d the Gerenian Chief renown’d.My son! I will inform thee true; meantime330Thy own suspicions border on the fact.Had Menelaus, Hero, amber hair’d,Ægisthus found living at his returnFrom Ilium, never onhisbones the GreeksHad heap’d a tomb, but dogs and rav’ning fowlsHad torn him lying in the open fieldFar from the town, nor him had woman weptOf all in Greece, for he had foul transgress’d.But we, in many an arduous task engaged,Lay before Ilium; he, the while, secure340Within the green retreats of Argos, foundOccasion apt by flatt’ry to deludeThe spouse of Agamemnon; she, at first,(The royal Clytemnestra) firm refusedThe deed dishonourable (for she boreA virtuous mind, and at her side a bardAttended ever, whom the King, to TroyDeparting, had appointed to the charge.)But when the Gods had purposed to ensnareÆgisthus, then dismissing far remote350The bard into a desart isle, he thereAbandon’d him to rav’ning fowls a prey,And to his own home, willing as himself,Led Clytemnestra. Num’rous thighs he burn’dOn all their hallow’d altars to the Gods,And hung with tap’stry, images, and goldTheir shrines, his great exploit past hope atchiev’d.We (Menelaus and myself) had sailedFrom Troy together, but when we approach’dSunium, headland of th’ Athenian shore,360There Phœbus, sudden, with his gentle shaftsSlew Menelaus’ pilot while he steer’dThe volant bark, Phrontis, Onetor’s son,A mariner past all expert, whom noneIn steerage match’d, what time the tempest roar’d.Here, therefore, Menelaus was detained,Giving his friend due burial, and his ritesFunereal celebrating, though in hasteStill to proceed. But when, with all his fleetThe wide sea traversing, he reach’d at length370Malea’s lofty foreland in his course,Rough passage, then, and perilous he found.Shrill blasts the Thund’rer pour’d into his sails,And wild waves sent him mountainous. His shipsThere scatter’d, some to the Cydonian coastOf Crete he push’d, near where the Jardan flows.Beside the confines of Gortyna stands,Amid the gloomy flood, a smooth rock, steepToward the sea, against whose leftward pointPhæstus by name, the South wind rolls the surge380Amain, which yet the rock, though small, repells.Hither with part he came, and scarce the crewsThemselves escaped, while the huge billows brokeTheir ships against the rocks; yet five he saved,Which winds and waves drove to the Ægyptian shore.Thus he, provision gath’ring as he wentAnd gold abundant, roam’d to distant landsAnd nations of another tongue. Meantime,Ægisthus these enormities at homeDevising, slew Atrides, and supreme390Rul’d the subjected land; sev’n years he reign’dIn opulent Mycenæ, but the eighthFrom Athens brought renown’d Orestes homeFor his destruction, who of life bereavedÆgisthus base assassin of his Sire.Orestes, therefore, the funereal ritesPerforming to his shameless mother’s shadeAnd to her lustful paramour, a feastGave to the Argives; on which self-same dayThe warlike Menelaus, with his ships400All treasure-laden to the brink, arrived.And thou, young friend! from thy forsaken homeRove not long time remote, thy treasures leftAt mercy of those proud, lest they divideAnd waste the whole, rend’ring thy voyage vain.But hence to Menelaus is the courseTo which I counsel thee; for he hath comeOf late from distant lands, whence to escapeNo man could hope, whom tempests first had driv’nDevious into so wide a sea, from which410Themselves the birds of heaven could not arriveIn a whole year, so vast is the expanse.Go, then, with ship and shipmates, or if moreThe land delight thee, steeds thou shalt not wantNor chariot, and my sons shall be thy guidesTo noble Lacedemon, the abodeOf Menelaus; ask from him the truth,Who will not lye, for he is passing wise.While thus he spake, the sun declined, and nightApproaching, blue-eyed Pallas interposed.420O antient King! well hast thou spoken all.But now delay not. Cut ye forth the tongues,8And mingle wine, that (Neptune first invokedWith due libation, and the other Gods)We may repair to rest; for even nowThe sun is sunk, and it becomes us notLong to protract a banquet to the GodsDevote, but in fit season to depart.So spake Jove’s daughter; they obedient heard.The heralds, then, pour’d water on their hands,430And the attendant youths, filling the cups,Served them from left to right. Next all the tonguesThey cast into the fire, and ev’ry guestArising, pour’d libation to the Gods.Libation made, and all with wine sufficed,Godlike Telemachus and Pallas bothWould have return’d, incontinent, on board,But Nestor urged them still to be his guests.Forbid it, Jove, and all the Pow’rs of heav’n!That ye should leave me to repair on board440Your vessel, as I were some needy wretchCloakless and destitute of fleecy storesWherewith to spread the couch soft for myself,Or for my guests. No. I have garments warmAn ample store, and rugs of richest dye;And never shall Ulysses’ son belov’d,My frend’s own son, sleep on a galley’s plankWhile I draw vital air; grant also, heav’n,That, dying, I may leave behind me sonsGlad to accommodate whatever guest!450Him answer’d then Pallas cærulean-eyed.Old Chief! thou hast well said, and reason bidsTelemachus thy kind commands obey.Lethimattend thee hence, that he may sleepBeneath thy roof, but I return on boardMyself, to instruct my people, and to giveAll needful orders; for among them noneIs old as I, but they are youths alike,Coevals of Telemachus, with whomThey have embark’d for friendship’s sake alone.460I therefore will repose myself on boardThis night, and to the Caucons bold in armsWill sail to-morrow, to demand arrearsLong time unpaid, and of no small amount.But, since he is become thy guest, affordMy friend a chariot, and a son of thineWho shall direct his way, nor let him wantOf all thy steeds the swiftest and the best.So saying, the blue-eyed Goddess as upborneOn eagle’s wings, vanish’d; amazement seized470The whole assembly, and the antient KingO’erwhelmed with wonder at that sight, the handGrasp’d of Telemachus, whom he thus bespake.My friend! I prophesy that thou shalt proveNor base nor dastard, whom, so young, the GodsAlready take in charge; for of the Pow’rsInhabitants of heav’n, none else was thisThan Jove’s own daughter Pallas, who amongThe Greecians honour’d most thy gen’rous Sire.But thou, O Queen! compassionate us all,480Myself, my sons, my comfort; give to eachA glorious name, and I to thee will giveFor sacrifice an heifer of the year,Broad-fronted, one that never yet hath borneThe yoke, and will incase her horns with gold.So Nestor pray’d, whom Pallas gracious heard.Then the Gerenian warrior old, beforeHis sons and sons in law, to his abodeMagnificent proceeded: they (arrivedWithin the splendid palace of the King)490On thrones and couches sat in order ranged,Whom Nestor welcom’d, charging high the cupWith wine of richest sort, which she who keptThat treasure, now in the eleventh yearFirst broach’d, unsealing the delicious juice.With this the hoary Senior fill’d a cup,And to the daughter of Jove Ægis-arm’dPouring libation, offer’d fervent pray’r.When all had made libation, and no wishRemain’d of more, then each to rest retired,500And Nestor the Gerenian warrior oldLed thence Telemachus to a carved couchBeneath the sounding portico prepared.Beside him he bade sleep the spearman bold,Pisistratus, a gallant youth, the soleUnwedded in his house of all his sons.Himself in the interior palace lay,Where couch and cov’ring for her antient spouseThe consort Queen had diligent prepar’d.But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,510Had tinged the East, arising from his bed,Gerenian Nestor issued forth, and satBefore his palace-gate on the white stonesResplendent as with oil, on which of oldHis father Neleus had been wont to sit,In council like a God; but he had sought,By destiny dismiss’d long since, the shades.On those stones therefore now, Nestor himself,Achaia’s guardian, sat, sceptre in hand,Where soon his num’rous sons, leaving betimes520The place of their repose, also appeared,Echephron, Stratius, Perseus, Thrasymedes,Aretus and Pisistratus. They placedGodlike Telemachus at Nestor’s side,And the Gerenian Hero thus began.Sons be ye quick—execute with dispatchMy purpose, that I may propitiate firstOf all the Gods Minerva, who herselfHath honour’d manifest our hallow’d feast.Haste, one, into the field, to order thence530An ox, and let the herdsman drive it home.Another, hasting to the sable barkOf brave Telemachus, bring hither allHis friends, save two, and let a third commandLaerceus, that he come to enwrap with goldThe victim’s horns. Abide ye here, the rest,And bid my female train (for I intendA banquet) with all diligence provideSeats, stores of wood, and water from the rock.He said, whom instant all obey’d. The ox540Came from the field, and from the gallant shipThe ship-mates of the brave Telemachus;Next, charged with all his implements of art,His mallet, anvil, pincers, came the smithTo give the horns their gilding; also camePallas herself to her own sacred rites.Then Nestor, hoary warrior, furnish’d gold,Which, hammer’d thin, the artist wrapp’d aroundThe victim’s horns, that seeing him attiredSo costly, Pallas might the more be pleased.550Stratius and brave Echephron introducedThe victim by his horns; Aretus broughtA laver in one hand, with flow’rs emboss’d,And in his other hand a basket storedWith cakes, while warlike Thrasymedes, arm’dWith his long-hafted ax, prepared to smiteThe ox, and Perseus to receive the blood.The hoary Nestor consecrated firstBoth cakes and water, and with earnest pray’rTo Pallas, gave the forelock to the flames.560When all had worshipp’d, and the broken cakesSprinkled, then godlike Thrasymedes drewClose to the ox, and smote him. Deep the edgeEnter’d, and senseless on the floor he fell.Then Nestor’s daughters, and the consorts allOf Nestor’s sons, with his own consort, chasteEurydice, the daughter eldest-bornOf Clymenus, in one shrill orisonVocif’rous join’d, while they, lifting the ox,Held him supported firmly, and the prince570Of men, Pisistratus, his gullet pierced.Soon as the sable blood had ceased, and lifeHad left the victim, spreading him abroad,With nice address they parted at the jointHis thighs, and wrapp’d them in the double cawl,Which with crude slices thin they overspread.Nestor burn’d incense, and libation pour’dLarge on the hissing brands, while him beside,Busy with spit and prong, stood many a youthTrain’d to the task. The thighs consumed, each tookHis portion of the maw, then, slashing well581The remnant, they transpierced it with the spitsNeatly, and held it reeking at the fire.Meantime the youngest of the daughters fairOf Nestor, beauteous Polycaste, laved,Anointed, and in vest and tunic cloathedTelemachus, who, so refresh’d, stepp’d forthFrom the bright laver graceful as a God,And took his seat at antient Nestor’s side.The viands dress’d, and from the spits withdrawn,590They sat to share the feast, and princely youthsArising, gave them wine in cups of gold.When neither hunger now nor thirst remain’dUnsated, thus Gerenian Nestor spake.My sons, arise, lead forth the sprightly steeds,And yoke them, that Telemachus may go.So spake the Chief, to whose commands his sons,Obedient, yoked in haste the rapid steeds,And the intendant matron of the storesDisposed meantime within the chariot, bread600And wine, and dainties, such as princes eat.Telemachus into the chariot firstAscended, and beside him, next, his placePisistratus the son of Nestor took,Then seiz’d the reins, and lash’d the coursers on.They, nothing loth, into the open plainFlew, leaving lofty Pylus soon afar.Thus, journeying, they shook on either sideThe yoke all day, and now the setting sunTo dusky evening had resign’d the roads,610When they to Pheræ came, and the abodeReach’d of Diocles, whose illustrious SireOrsilochus from Alpheus drew his birth,And there, with kindness entertain’d, they slept.But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,Look’d rosy from the East, yoking the steeds,They in their sumptuous chariot sat again.The son of Nestor plied the lash, and forthThrough vestibule and sounding porticoThe royal coursers, not unwilling, flew.620A corn-invested land receiv’d them next,And there they brought their journey to a close,So rapidly they moved; and now the sunWent down, and even-tide dimm’d all the ways.7Ερκος οδοντων. Prior, alluding to this expression, ludicrously renders it—“When words like these in vocal breathBurst from his twofold hedge of teeth.”8It is said to have been customary in the days of Homer, when the Greeks retired from a banquet to their beds, to cut out the tongues of the victims, and offer them to the Gods in particular who presided over conversation.
Telemachus arriving at Pylus, enquires of Nestor concerning Ulysses. Nestor relates to him all that he knows or has heard of the Greecians since their departure from the siege of Troy, but not being able to give him any satisfactory account of Ulysses, refers him to Menelaus. At evening Minerva quits Telemachus, but discovers herself in going. Nestor sacrifices to the Goddess, and the solemnity ended, Telemachus sets forth for Sparta in one of Nestor’s chariots, and accompanied by Nestor’s son, Pisistratus.
The sun, emerging from the lucid waves,Ascended now the brazen vault with lightFor the inhabitants of earth and heav’n,When in their bark at Pylus they arrived,City of Neleus. On the shore they foundThe people sacrificing; bulls they slewBlack without spot, to Neptune azure-hair’d.On ranges nine of seats they sat; each rangeReceived five hundred, and to each they madeAllotment equal of nine sable bulls.10The feast was now begun; these eating satThe entrails, those stood off’ring to the GodThe thighs, his portion, when the IthacansPush’d right ashore, and, furling close the sails,And making fast their moorings, disembark’d.Forth came Telemachus, by Pallas led,Whom thus the Goddess azure-eyed address’d.Telemachus! there is no longer roomFor bashful fear, since thou hast cross’d the floodWith purpose to enquire what land conceals20Thy father, and what fate hath follow’d him.Advance at once to the equestrian ChiefNestor, within whose bosom lies, perhaps,Advice well worthy of thy search; entreatHimself, that he will tell thee only truth,Who will not lye, for he is passing wise.To whom Telemachus discrete replied.Ah Mentor! how can I advance, how greetA Chief like him, unpractis’d as I amIn manag’d phrase? Shame bids the youth beware30How he accosts the man of many years.But him the Goddess answer’d azure-eyed,Telemachus! Thou wilt, in part, thyselfFit speech devise, and heav’n will give the rest;For thou wast neither born, nor hast been train’dTo manhood, under unpropitious Pow’rs.So saying, Minerva led him thence, whom heWith nimble steps attending, soon arrivedAmong the multitude. There Nestor sat,And Nestor’s sons, while, busily the feast40Tending, his num’rous followers roasted, some,The viands, some, transfix’d them with the spits.They seeing guests arrived, together allAdvanced, and, grasping courteously their hands,Invited them to sit; but first, the sonOf Nestor, young Pisistratus, approach’d,Who, fast’ning on the hands of both, besideThe banquet placed them, where the beach was spreadWith fleeces, and where Thrasymedes satHis brother, and the hoary Chief his Sire.50To each a portion of the inner partsHe gave, then fill’d a golden cup with wine,Which, tasted first, he to the daughter boreOf Jove the Thund’rer, and her thus bespake.Oh guest! the King of Ocean now adore!For ye have chanced on Neptune’s festival;And, when thou hast, thyself, libation madeDuly, and pray’r, deliver to thy friendThe gen’rous juice, that he may also makeLibation; for he, doubtless, seeks, in prayer60The Immortals, of whose favour all have need.But, since he younger is, and with myselfCoeval, first I give the cup to thee.He ceas’d, and to her hand consign’d the cup,Which Pallas gladly from a youth receivedSo just and wise, who to herself had firstThe golden cup presented, and in pray’rFervent the Sov’reign of the Seas adored.Hear, earth-encircler Neptune! O vouchsafeTo us thy suppliants the desired effect70Of this our voyage; glory, first, bestowOn Nestor and his offspring both, then grantTo all the Pylians such a gracious boonAs shall requite their noble off’ring well.Grant also to Telemachus and meTo voyage hence, possess’d of what we soughtWhen hither in our sable bark we came.So Pallas pray’d, and her own pray’r herselfAccomplish’d. To Telemachus she gaveThe splendid goblet next, and in his turn80Like pray’r Ulysses’ son also preferr’d.And now (the banquet from the spits withdrawn)They next distributed sufficient shareTo each, and all were sumptuously regaled.At length, (both hunger satisfied and thirst)Thus Nestor, the Gerenian Chief, began.Now with more seemliness we may enquire,After repast, what guests we have received.Our guests! who are ye? Whence have ye the wavesPlough’d hither? Come ye to transact concerns90Commercial, or at random roam the DeepLike pirates, who with mischief charged and woeTo foreign States, oft hazard life themselves?Him answer’d, bolder now, but still discrete,Telemachus. For Pallas had his heartWith manly courage arm’d, that he might askFrom Nestor tidings of his absent Sire,And win, himself, distinction and renown.Oh Nestor, Neleus’ son, glory of Greece!Thou askest whence we are. I tell thee whence.100From Ithaca, by the umbrageous woodsOf Neritus o’erhung, by private need,Not public, urged, we come. My errand isTo seek intelligence of the renown’dUlysses; of my noble father, prais’dFor dauntless courage, whom report proclaimsConqueror, with thine aid, of sacred Troy.We have already learn’d where other ChiefsWho fought at Ilium, died; but Jove concealsEven the death of my illustrious Sire110In dull obscurity; for none hath heardOr confident can answer, where he dy’d;Whether he on the continent hath fall’nBy hostile hands, or by the waves o’erwhelm’dOf Amphitrite, welters in the Deep.For this cause, at thy knees suppliant, I begThat thou would’st tell me his disast’rous end,If either thou beheld’st that dread eventThyself, or from some wanderer of the GreeksHast heard it: for my father at his birth120Was, sure, predestin’d to no common woes.Neither through pity, or o’erstrain’d respectFlatter me, but explicit all relateWhich thou hast witness’d. If my noble SireE’er gratified thee by performance justOf word or deed at Ilium, where ye fellSo num’rous slain in fight, oh, recollectNow his fidelity, and tell me true.Then Nestor thus Gerenian Hero old.Young friend! since thou remind’st me, speaking thus,130Of all the woes which indefatigableWe sons of the Achaians there sustain’d,Both those which wand’ring on the Deep we boreWherever by Achilles led in questOf booty, and the many woes besideWhich under royal Priam’s spacious wallsWe suffer’d, know, that there our bravest fell.There warlike Ajax lies, there Peleus’ son;There, too, Patroclus, like the Gods themselvesIn council, and my son beloved there,140Brave, virtuous, swift of foot, and bold in fight,Antilochus. Nor are these sorrows all;What tongue of mortal man could all relate?Should’st thou, abiding here, five years employOr six, enquiring of the woes enduredBy the Achaians, ere thou should’st have learn’dThe whole, thou would’st depart, tir’d of the tale.For we, nine years, stratagems of all kindsDevised against them, and Saturnian JoveScarce crown’d the difficult attempt at last.150There, no competitor in wiles well-plann’dUlysses found, so far were all surpass’dIn shrewd invention by thy noble Sire,If thou indeed art his, as sure thou art,Whose sight breeds wonder in me, and thy speechHis speech resembles more than might be deem’dWithin the scope of years so green as thine.There, never in opinion, or in voiceIllustrious Ulysses and myselfDivided were, but, one in heart, contrived160As best we might, the benefit of all.But after Priam’s lofty city sack’d,And the departure of the Greeks on boardTheir barks, and when the Gods had scatter’d them,Then Jove imagin’d for the Argive hostA sorrowful return; for neither justWere all, nor prudent, therefore many foundA fate disast’rous through the vengeful ireOf Jove-born Pallas, who between the sonsOf Atreus sharp contention interposed.170They both, irregularly, and againstJust order, summoning by night the GreeksTo council, of whom many came with wineOppress’d, promulgated the cause for whichThey had convened the people. Then it wasThat Menelaus bade the general hostTheir thoughts bend homeward o’er the sacred Deep,Which Agamemnon in no sort approved.His counsel was to slay them yet at Troy,That so he might assuage the dreadful wrath180Of Pallas, first, by sacrifice and pray’r.Vain hope! he little thought how ill should speedThat fond attempt, for, once provok’d, the GodsAre not with ease conciliated again.Thus stood the brothers, altercation hotMaintaining, till at length, uprose the GreeksWith deaf’ning clamours, and with diff’ring minds.We slept the night, but teeming with disgustMutual, for Jove great woe prepar’d for all.At dawn of day we drew our gallies down190Into the sea, and, hasty, put on boardThe spoils and female captives. Half the host,With Agamemnon, son of Atreus, stay’dSupreme commander, and, embarking, halfPush’d forth. Swift course we made, for Neptune smooth’dThe waves before us of the monstrous Deep.At Tenedos arriv’d, we there perform’dSacrifice to the Gods, ardent to reachOur native land, but unpropitious Jove,Not yet designing our arrival there,200Involved us in dissension fierce again.For all the crews, followers of the King,Thy noble Sire, to gratify our Chief,The son of Atreus, chose a diff’rent course,And steer’d their oary barks again to Troy.But I, assured that evil from the GodsImpended, gath’ring all my gallant fleet,Fled thence in haste, and warlike DiomedeExhorting his attendants, also fled.At length, the Hero Menelaus join’d210Our fleets at Lesbos; there he found us heldIn deep deliberation on the lengthOf way before us, whether we should steerAbove the craggy Chios to the islePsyria, that island holding on our left,Or under Chios by the wind-swept heightsOf Mimas. Then we ask’d from Jove a sign,And by a sign vouchsafed he bade us cutThe wide sea to Eubœa sheer athwart,So soonest to escape the threat’ned harm.220Shrill sang the rising gale, and with swift prowsCleaving the fishy flood, we reach’d by nightGeræstus, where arrived, we burn’d the thighsOf num’rous bulls to Neptune, who had safeConducted us through all our perilous course.The fleet of Diomede in safety moor’dOn the fourth day at Argos, but myselfHeld on my course to Pylus, nor the windOne moment thwarted us, or died away,When Jove had once commanded it to blow.230Thus, uninform’d, I have arrived, my son!Nor of the Greecians, who are saved have heard,Or who have perish’d; but what news soe’erI have obtain’d, since my return, with truthI will relate, nor aught conceal from thee.The spear-famed Myrmidons, as rumour speaks,By Neoptolemus, illustrious sonOf brave Achilles led, have safe arrived;Safe, Philoctetes, also son renown’dOf Pæas; and Idomeneus at Crete240Hath landed all his followers who surviveThe bloody war, the waves have swallow’d none.Ye have yourselves doubtless, although remote,Of Agamemnon heard, how he return’d,And how Ægisthus cruelly contrivedFor him a bloody welcome, but himselfHath with his own life paid the murth’rous deed.Good is it, therefore, if a son surviveThe slain, since Agamemnon’s son hath wellAvenged his father’s death, slaying, himself,250Ægisthus, foul assassin of his Sire.Young friend! (for pleas’d thy vig’rous youth I view,And just proportion) be thou also bold,That thine like his may be a deathless name.Then, prudent, him answer’d Telemachus.Oh Nestor, Neleus’ son, glory of Greece!And righteous was that vengeance;hisrenownAchaia’s sons shall far and wide diffuse,To future times transmitting it in song.Ah! would that such ability the Gods260Would grant to me, that I, as well, the deedsMight punish of our suitors, whose excessEnormous, and whose bitter taunts I feelContinual, object of their subtle hate.But not for me such happiness the GodsHave twined into my thread; no, not for meOr for my father. Patience is our part.To whom Gerenian Nestor thus replied.Young friend! (since thou remind’st me of that theme)Fame here reports that num’rous suitors haunt270Thy palace for thy mother’s sake, and thereMuch evil perpetrate in thy despight.But say, endur’st thou willing their controulImperious, or because the people, sway’dBy some response oracular, inclineAgainst thee? But who knows? the time may comeWhen to his home restored, either alone,Or aided by the force of all the Greeks,Ulysses may avenge the wrong; at least,Should Pallas azure-eyed thee love, as erst280At Troy, the scene of our unnumber’d woes,She lov’d Ulysses (for I have not knownThe Gods assisting so apparentlyA mortal man, as him Minerva there)Should Pallas view thee also with like loveAnd kind solicitude, some few of thoseShould dream, perchance, of wedlock never more.Then answer thus Telemachus return’d.That word’s accomplishment I cannot hope;It promises too much; the thought alone290O’erwhelms me; an event so fortunateWould, unexpected on my part, arrive,Although the Gods themselves should purpose it.But Pallas him answer’d cærulean-eyed.Telemachus! what word was that which leap’dThe iv’ry guard7that should have fenced it in?A God, so willing, could with utmost easeSave any man, howe’er remote. Myself,I had much rather, many woes endured,Revisit home, at last, happy and safe,300Than, sooner coming, die in my own house,As Agamemnon perish’d by the artsOf base Ægisthus and the subtle Queen.Yet not the Gods themselves can save from deathAll-levelling, the man whom most they love,When Fate ordains him once to his last sleep.To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.Howe’er it interest us, let us leaveThis question, Mentor! He, I am assured,Returns no more, but hath already found310A sad, sad fate by the decree of heav’n.But I would now interrogate againNestor, and on a different theme, for himIn human rights I judge, and laws expert,And in all knowledge beyond other men;For he hath govern’d, as report proclaims,Three generations; therefore in my eyesHe wears the awful impress of a God.Oh Nestor, son of Neleus, tell me true;What was the manner of Atrides’ death,320Wide-ruling Agamemnon? Tell me whereWas Menelaus? By what means contrivedÆgisthus to inflict the fatal blow,Slaying so much a nobler than himself?Had not the brother of the Monarch reach’dAchaian Argos yet, but, wand’ring stillIn other climes, his long absence gaveÆgisthus courage for that bloody deed?Whom answer’d the Gerenian Chief renown’d.My son! I will inform thee true; meantime330Thy own suspicions border on the fact.Had Menelaus, Hero, amber hair’d,Ægisthus found living at his returnFrom Ilium, never onhisbones the GreeksHad heap’d a tomb, but dogs and rav’ning fowlsHad torn him lying in the open fieldFar from the town, nor him had woman weptOf all in Greece, for he had foul transgress’d.But we, in many an arduous task engaged,Lay before Ilium; he, the while, secure340Within the green retreats of Argos, foundOccasion apt by flatt’ry to deludeThe spouse of Agamemnon; she, at first,(The royal Clytemnestra) firm refusedThe deed dishonourable (for she boreA virtuous mind, and at her side a bardAttended ever, whom the King, to TroyDeparting, had appointed to the charge.)But when the Gods had purposed to ensnareÆgisthus, then dismissing far remote350The bard into a desart isle, he thereAbandon’d him to rav’ning fowls a prey,And to his own home, willing as himself,Led Clytemnestra. Num’rous thighs he burn’dOn all their hallow’d altars to the Gods,And hung with tap’stry, images, and goldTheir shrines, his great exploit past hope atchiev’d.We (Menelaus and myself) had sailedFrom Troy together, but when we approach’dSunium, headland of th’ Athenian shore,360There Phœbus, sudden, with his gentle shaftsSlew Menelaus’ pilot while he steer’dThe volant bark, Phrontis, Onetor’s son,A mariner past all expert, whom noneIn steerage match’d, what time the tempest roar’d.Here, therefore, Menelaus was detained,Giving his friend due burial, and his ritesFunereal celebrating, though in hasteStill to proceed. But when, with all his fleetThe wide sea traversing, he reach’d at length370Malea’s lofty foreland in his course,Rough passage, then, and perilous he found.Shrill blasts the Thund’rer pour’d into his sails,And wild waves sent him mountainous. His shipsThere scatter’d, some to the Cydonian coastOf Crete he push’d, near where the Jardan flows.Beside the confines of Gortyna stands,Amid the gloomy flood, a smooth rock, steepToward the sea, against whose leftward pointPhæstus by name, the South wind rolls the surge380Amain, which yet the rock, though small, repells.Hither with part he came, and scarce the crewsThemselves escaped, while the huge billows brokeTheir ships against the rocks; yet five he saved,Which winds and waves drove to the Ægyptian shore.Thus he, provision gath’ring as he wentAnd gold abundant, roam’d to distant landsAnd nations of another tongue. Meantime,Ægisthus these enormities at homeDevising, slew Atrides, and supreme390Rul’d the subjected land; sev’n years he reign’dIn opulent Mycenæ, but the eighthFrom Athens brought renown’d Orestes homeFor his destruction, who of life bereavedÆgisthus base assassin of his Sire.Orestes, therefore, the funereal ritesPerforming to his shameless mother’s shadeAnd to her lustful paramour, a feastGave to the Argives; on which self-same dayThe warlike Menelaus, with his ships400All treasure-laden to the brink, arrived.And thou, young friend! from thy forsaken homeRove not long time remote, thy treasures leftAt mercy of those proud, lest they divideAnd waste the whole, rend’ring thy voyage vain.But hence to Menelaus is the courseTo which I counsel thee; for he hath comeOf late from distant lands, whence to escapeNo man could hope, whom tempests first had driv’nDevious into so wide a sea, from which410Themselves the birds of heaven could not arriveIn a whole year, so vast is the expanse.Go, then, with ship and shipmates, or if moreThe land delight thee, steeds thou shalt not wantNor chariot, and my sons shall be thy guidesTo noble Lacedemon, the abodeOf Menelaus; ask from him the truth,Who will not lye, for he is passing wise.While thus he spake, the sun declined, and nightApproaching, blue-eyed Pallas interposed.420O antient King! well hast thou spoken all.But now delay not. Cut ye forth the tongues,8And mingle wine, that (Neptune first invokedWith due libation, and the other Gods)We may repair to rest; for even nowThe sun is sunk, and it becomes us notLong to protract a banquet to the GodsDevote, but in fit season to depart.So spake Jove’s daughter; they obedient heard.The heralds, then, pour’d water on their hands,430And the attendant youths, filling the cups,Served them from left to right. Next all the tonguesThey cast into the fire, and ev’ry guestArising, pour’d libation to the Gods.Libation made, and all with wine sufficed,Godlike Telemachus and Pallas bothWould have return’d, incontinent, on board,But Nestor urged them still to be his guests.Forbid it, Jove, and all the Pow’rs of heav’n!That ye should leave me to repair on board440Your vessel, as I were some needy wretchCloakless and destitute of fleecy storesWherewith to spread the couch soft for myself,Or for my guests. No. I have garments warmAn ample store, and rugs of richest dye;And never shall Ulysses’ son belov’d,My frend’s own son, sleep on a galley’s plankWhile I draw vital air; grant also, heav’n,That, dying, I may leave behind me sonsGlad to accommodate whatever guest!450Him answer’d then Pallas cærulean-eyed.Old Chief! thou hast well said, and reason bidsTelemachus thy kind commands obey.Lethimattend thee hence, that he may sleepBeneath thy roof, but I return on boardMyself, to instruct my people, and to giveAll needful orders; for among them noneIs old as I, but they are youths alike,Coevals of Telemachus, with whomThey have embark’d for friendship’s sake alone.460I therefore will repose myself on boardThis night, and to the Caucons bold in armsWill sail to-morrow, to demand arrearsLong time unpaid, and of no small amount.But, since he is become thy guest, affordMy friend a chariot, and a son of thineWho shall direct his way, nor let him wantOf all thy steeds the swiftest and the best.So saying, the blue-eyed Goddess as upborneOn eagle’s wings, vanish’d; amazement seized470The whole assembly, and the antient KingO’erwhelmed with wonder at that sight, the handGrasp’d of Telemachus, whom he thus bespake.My friend! I prophesy that thou shalt proveNor base nor dastard, whom, so young, the GodsAlready take in charge; for of the Pow’rsInhabitants of heav’n, none else was thisThan Jove’s own daughter Pallas, who amongThe Greecians honour’d most thy gen’rous Sire.But thou, O Queen! compassionate us all,480Myself, my sons, my comfort; give to eachA glorious name, and I to thee will giveFor sacrifice an heifer of the year,Broad-fronted, one that never yet hath borneThe yoke, and will incase her horns with gold.So Nestor pray’d, whom Pallas gracious heard.Then the Gerenian warrior old, beforeHis sons and sons in law, to his abodeMagnificent proceeded: they (arrivedWithin the splendid palace of the King)490On thrones and couches sat in order ranged,Whom Nestor welcom’d, charging high the cupWith wine of richest sort, which she who keptThat treasure, now in the eleventh yearFirst broach’d, unsealing the delicious juice.With this the hoary Senior fill’d a cup,And to the daughter of Jove Ægis-arm’dPouring libation, offer’d fervent pray’r.When all had made libation, and no wishRemain’d of more, then each to rest retired,500And Nestor the Gerenian warrior oldLed thence Telemachus to a carved couchBeneath the sounding portico prepared.Beside him he bade sleep the spearman bold,Pisistratus, a gallant youth, the soleUnwedded in his house of all his sons.Himself in the interior palace lay,Where couch and cov’ring for her antient spouseThe consort Queen had diligent prepar’d.But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,510Had tinged the East, arising from his bed,Gerenian Nestor issued forth, and satBefore his palace-gate on the white stonesResplendent as with oil, on which of oldHis father Neleus had been wont to sit,In council like a God; but he had sought,By destiny dismiss’d long since, the shades.On those stones therefore now, Nestor himself,Achaia’s guardian, sat, sceptre in hand,Where soon his num’rous sons, leaving betimes520The place of their repose, also appeared,Echephron, Stratius, Perseus, Thrasymedes,Aretus and Pisistratus. They placedGodlike Telemachus at Nestor’s side,And the Gerenian Hero thus began.Sons be ye quick—execute with dispatchMy purpose, that I may propitiate firstOf all the Gods Minerva, who herselfHath honour’d manifest our hallow’d feast.Haste, one, into the field, to order thence530An ox, and let the herdsman drive it home.Another, hasting to the sable barkOf brave Telemachus, bring hither allHis friends, save two, and let a third commandLaerceus, that he come to enwrap with goldThe victim’s horns. Abide ye here, the rest,And bid my female train (for I intendA banquet) with all diligence provideSeats, stores of wood, and water from the rock.He said, whom instant all obey’d. The ox540Came from the field, and from the gallant shipThe ship-mates of the brave Telemachus;Next, charged with all his implements of art,His mallet, anvil, pincers, came the smithTo give the horns their gilding; also camePallas herself to her own sacred rites.Then Nestor, hoary warrior, furnish’d gold,Which, hammer’d thin, the artist wrapp’d aroundThe victim’s horns, that seeing him attiredSo costly, Pallas might the more be pleased.550Stratius and brave Echephron introducedThe victim by his horns; Aretus broughtA laver in one hand, with flow’rs emboss’d,And in his other hand a basket storedWith cakes, while warlike Thrasymedes, arm’dWith his long-hafted ax, prepared to smiteThe ox, and Perseus to receive the blood.The hoary Nestor consecrated firstBoth cakes and water, and with earnest pray’rTo Pallas, gave the forelock to the flames.560When all had worshipp’d, and the broken cakesSprinkled, then godlike Thrasymedes drewClose to the ox, and smote him. Deep the edgeEnter’d, and senseless on the floor he fell.Then Nestor’s daughters, and the consorts allOf Nestor’s sons, with his own consort, chasteEurydice, the daughter eldest-bornOf Clymenus, in one shrill orisonVocif’rous join’d, while they, lifting the ox,Held him supported firmly, and the prince570Of men, Pisistratus, his gullet pierced.Soon as the sable blood had ceased, and lifeHad left the victim, spreading him abroad,With nice address they parted at the jointHis thighs, and wrapp’d them in the double cawl,Which with crude slices thin they overspread.Nestor burn’d incense, and libation pour’dLarge on the hissing brands, while him beside,Busy with spit and prong, stood many a youthTrain’d to the task. The thighs consumed, each tookHis portion of the maw, then, slashing well581The remnant, they transpierced it with the spitsNeatly, and held it reeking at the fire.Meantime the youngest of the daughters fairOf Nestor, beauteous Polycaste, laved,Anointed, and in vest and tunic cloathedTelemachus, who, so refresh’d, stepp’d forthFrom the bright laver graceful as a God,And took his seat at antient Nestor’s side.The viands dress’d, and from the spits withdrawn,590They sat to share the feast, and princely youthsArising, gave them wine in cups of gold.When neither hunger now nor thirst remain’dUnsated, thus Gerenian Nestor spake.My sons, arise, lead forth the sprightly steeds,And yoke them, that Telemachus may go.So spake the Chief, to whose commands his sons,Obedient, yoked in haste the rapid steeds,And the intendant matron of the storesDisposed meantime within the chariot, bread600And wine, and dainties, such as princes eat.Telemachus into the chariot firstAscended, and beside him, next, his placePisistratus the son of Nestor took,Then seiz’d the reins, and lash’d the coursers on.They, nothing loth, into the open plainFlew, leaving lofty Pylus soon afar.Thus, journeying, they shook on either sideThe yoke all day, and now the setting sunTo dusky evening had resign’d the roads,610When they to Pheræ came, and the abodeReach’d of Diocles, whose illustrious SireOrsilochus from Alpheus drew his birth,And there, with kindness entertain’d, they slept.But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,Look’d rosy from the East, yoking the steeds,They in their sumptuous chariot sat again.The son of Nestor plied the lash, and forthThrough vestibule and sounding porticoThe royal coursers, not unwilling, flew.620A corn-invested land receiv’d them next,And there they brought their journey to a close,So rapidly they moved; and now the sunWent down, and even-tide dimm’d all the ways.
The sun, emerging from the lucid waves,Ascended now the brazen vault with lightFor the inhabitants of earth and heav’n,When in their bark at Pylus they arrived,City of Neleus. On the shore they foundThe people sacrificing; bulls they slewBlack without spot, to Neptune azure-hair’d.On ranges nine of seats they sat; each rangeReceived five hundred, and to each they madeAllotment equal of nine sable bulls.10The feast was now begun; these eating satThe entrails, those stood off’ring to the GodThe thighs, his portion, when the IthacansPush’d right ashore, and, furling close the sails,And making fast their moorings, disembark’d.Forth came Telemachus, by Pallas led,Whom thus the Goddess azure-eyed address’d.Telemachus! there is no longer roomFor bashful fear, since thou hast cross’d the floodWith purpose to enquire what land conceals20Thy father, and what fate hath follow’d him.Advance at once to the equestrian ChiefNestor, within whose bosom lies, perhaps,Advice well worthy of thy search; entreatHimself, that he will tell thee only truth,Who will not lye, for he is passing wise.To whom Telemachus discrete replied.Ah Mentor! how can I advance, how greetA Chief like him, unpractis’d as I amIn manag’d phrase? Shame bids the youth beware30How he accosts the man of many years.But him the Goddess answer’d azure-eyed,Telemachus! Thou wilt, in part, thyselfFit speech devise, and heav’n will give the rest;For thou wast neither born, nor hast been train’dTo manhood, under unpropitious Pow’rs.So saying, Minerva led him thence, whom heWith nimble steps attending, soon arrivedAmong the multitude. There Nestor sat,And Nestor’s sons, while, busily the feast40Tending, his num’rous followers roasted, some,The viands, some, transfix’d them with the spits.They seeing guests arrived, together allAdvanced, and, grasping courteously their hands,Invited them to sit; but first, the sonOf Nestor, young Pisistratus, approach’d,Who, fast’ning on the hands of both, besideThe banquet placed them, where the beach was spreadWith fleeces, and where Thrasymedes satHis brother, and the hoary Chief his Sire.50To each a portion of the inner partsHe gave, then fill’d a golden cup with wine,Which, tasted first, he to the daughter boreOf Jove the Thund’rer, and her thus bespake.Oh guest! the King of Ocean now adore!For ye have chanced on Neptune’s festival;And, when thou hast, thyself, libation madeDuly, and pray’r, deliver to thy friendThe gen’rous juice, that he may also makeLibation; for he, doubtless, seeks, in prayer60The Immortals, of whose favour all have need.But, since he younger is, and with myselfCoeval, first I give the cup to thee.He ceas’d, and to her hand consign’d the cup,Which Pallas gladly from a youth receivedSo just and wise, who to herself had firstThe golden cup presented, and in pray’rFervent the Sov’reign of the Seas adored.Hear, earth-encircler Neptune! O vouchsafeTo us thy suppliants the desired effect70Of this our voyage; glory, first, bestowOn Nestor and his offspring both, then grantTo all the Pylians such a gracious boonAs shall requite their noble off’ring well.Grant also to Telemachus and meTo voyage hence, possess’d of what we soughtWhen hither in our sable bark we came.So Pallas pray’d, and her own pray’r herselfAccomplish’d. To Telemachus she gaveThe splendid goblet next, and in his turn80Like pray’r Ulysses’ son also preferr’d.And now (the banquet from the spits withdrawn)They next distributed sufficient shareTo each, and all were sumptuously regaled.At length, (both hunger satisfied and thirst)Thus Nestor, the Gerenian Chief, began.Now with more seemliness we may enquire,After repast, what guests we have received.Our guests! who are ye? Whence have ye the wavesPlough’d hither? Come ye to transact concerns90Commercial, or at random roam the DeepLike pirates, who with mischief charged and woeTo foreign States, oft hazard life themselves?Him answer’d, bolder now, but still discrete,Telemachus. For Pallas had his heartWith manly courage arm’d, that he might askFrom Nestor tidings of his absent Sire,And win, himself, distinction and renown.Oh Nestor, Neleus’ son, glory of Greece!Thou askest whence we are. I tell thee whence.100From Ithaca, by the umbrageous woodsOf Neritus o’erhung, by private need,Not public, urged, we come. My errand isTo seek intelligence of the renown’dUlysses; of my noble father, prais’dFor dauntless courage, whom report proclaimsConqueror, with thine aid, of sacred Troy.We have already learn’d where other ChiefsWho fought at Ilium, died; but Jove concealsEven the death of my illustrious Sire110In dull obscurity; for none hath heardOr confident can answer, where he dy’d;Whether he on the continent hath fall’nBy hostile hands, or by the waves o’erwhelm’dOf Amphitrite, welters in the Deep.For this cause, at thy knees suppliant, I begThat thou would’st tell me his disast’rous end,If either thou beheld’st that dread eventThyself, or from some wanderer of the GreeksHast heard it: for my father at his birth120Was, sure, predestin’d to no common woes.Neither through pity, or o’erstrain’d respectFlatter me, but explicit all relateWhich thou hast witness’d. If my noble SireE’er gratified thee by performance justOf word or deed at Ilium, where ye fellSo num’rous slain in fight, oh, recollectNow his fidelity, and tell me true.Then Nestor thus Gerenian Hero old.Young friend! since thou remind’st me, speaking thus,130Of all the woes which indefatigableWe sons of the Achaians there sustain’d,Both those which wand’ring on the Deep we boreWherever by Achilles led in questOf booty, and the many woes besideWhich under royal Priam’s spacious wallsWe suffer’d, know, that there our bravest fell.There warlike Ajax lies, there Peleus’ son;There, too, Patroclus, like the Gods themselvesIn council, and my son beloved there,140Brave, virtuous, swift of foot, and bold in fight,Antilochus. Nor are these sorrows all;What tongue of mortal man could all relate?Should’st thou, abiding here, five years employOr six, enquiring of the woes enduredBy the Achaians, ere thou should’st have learn’dThe whole, thou would’st depart, tir’d of the tale.For we, nine years, stratagems of all kindsDevised against them, and Saturnian JoveScarce crown’d the difficult attempt at last.150There, no competitor in wiles well-plann’dUlysses found, so far were all surpass’dIn shrewd invention by thy noble Sire,If thou indeed art his, as sure thou art,Whose sight breeds wonder in me, and thy speechHis speech resembles more than might be deem’dWithin the scope of years so green as thine.There, never in opinion, or in voiceIllustrious Ulysses and myselfDivided were, but, one in heart, contrived160As best we might, the benefit of all.But after Priam’s lofty city sack’d,And the departure of the Greeks on boardTheir barks, and when the Gods had scatter’d them,Then Jove imagin’d for the Argive hostA sorrowful return; for neither justWere all, nor prudent, therefore many foundA fate disast’rous through the vengeful ireOf Jove-born Pallas, who between the sonsOf Atreus sharp contention interposed.170They both, irregularly, and againstJust order, summoning by night the GreeksTo council, of whom many came with wineOppress’d, promulgated the cause for whichThey had convened the people. Then it wasThat Menelaus bade the general hostTheir thoughts bend homeward o’er the sacred Deep,Which Agamemnon in no sort approved.His counsel was to slay them yet at Troy,That so he might assuage the dreadful wrath180Of Pallas, first, by sacrifice and pray’r.Vain hope! he little thought how ill should speedThat fond attempt, for, once provok’d, the GodsAre not with ease conciliated again.Thus stood the brothers, altercation hotMaintaining, till at length, uprose the GreeksWith deaf’ning clamours, and with diff’ring minds.We slept the night, but teeming with disgustMutual, for Jove great woe prepar’d for all.At dawn of day we drew our gallies down190Into the sea, and, hasty, put on boardThe spoils and female captives. Half the host,With Agamemnon, son of Atreus, stay’dSupreme commander, and, embarking, halfPush’d forth. Swift course we made, for Neptune smooth’dThe waves before us of the monstrous Deep.At Tenedos arriv’d, we there perform’dSacrifice to the Gods, ardent to reachOur native land, but unpropitious Jove,Not yet designing our arrival there,200Involved us in dissension fierce again.For all the crews, followers of the King,Thy noble Sire, to gratify our Chief,The son of Atreus, chose a diff’rent course,And steer’d their oary barks again to Troy.But I, assured that evil from the GodsImpended, gath’ring all my gallant fleet,Fled thence in haste, and warlike DiomedeExhorting his attendants, also fled.At length, the Hero Menelaus join’d210Our fleets at Lesbos; there he found us heldIn deep deliberation on the lengthOf way before us, whether we should steerAbove the craggy Chios to the islePsyria, that island holding on our left,Or under Chios by the wind-swept heightsOf Mimas. Then we ask’d from Jove a sign,And by a sign vouchsafed he bade us cutThe wide sea to Eubœa sheer athwart,So soonest to escape the threat’ned harm.220Shrill sang the rising gale, and with swift prowsCleaving the fishy flood, we reach’d by nightGeræstus, where arrived, we burn’d the thighsOf num’rous bulls to Neptune, who had safeConducted us through all our perilous course.The fleet of Diomede in safety moor’dOn the fourth day at Argos, but myselfHeld on my course to Pylus, nor the windOne moment thwarted us, or died away,When Jove had once commanded it to blow.230Thus, uninform’d, I have arrived, my son!Nor of the Greecians, who are saved have heard,Or who have perish’d; but what news soe’erI have obtain’d, since my return, with truthI will relate, nor aught conceal from thee.The spear-famed Myrmidons, as rumour speaks,By Neoptolemus, illustrious sonOf brave Achilles led, have safe arrived;Safe, Philoctetes, also son renown’dOf Pæas; and Idomeneus at Crete240Hath landed all his followers who surviveThe bloody war, the waves have swallow’d none.Ye have yourselves doubtless, although remote,Of Agamemnon heard, how he return’d,And how Ægisthus cruelly contrivedFor him a bloody welcome, but himselfHath with his own life paid the murth’rous deed.Good is it, therefore, if a son surviveThe slain, since Agamemnon’s son hath wellAvenged his father’s death, slaying, himself,250Ægisthus, foul assassin of his Sire.Young friend! (for pleas’d thy vig’rous youth I view,And just proportion) be thou also bold,That thine like his may be a deathless name.Then, prudent, him answer’d Telemachus.Oh Nestor, Neleus’ son, glory of Greece!And righteous was that vengeance;hisrenownAchaia’s sons shall far and wide diffuse,To future times transmitting it in song.Ah! would that such ability the Gods260Would grant to me, that I, as well, the deedsMight punish of our suitors, whose excessEnormous, and whose bitter taunts I feelContinual, object of their subtle hate.But not for me such happiness the GodsHave twined into my thread; no, not for meOr for my father. Patience is our part.To whom Gerenian Nestor thus replied.Young friend! (since thou remind’st me of that theme)Fame here reports that num’rous suitors haunt270Thy palace for thy mother’s sake, and thereMuch evil perpetrate in thy despight.But say, endur’st thou willing their controulImperious, or because the people, sway’dBy some response oracular, inclineAgainst thee? But who knows? the time may comeWhen to his home restored, either alone,Or aided by the force of all the Greeks,Ulysses may avenge the wrong; at least,Should Pallas azure-eyed thee love, as erst280At Troy, the scene of our unnumber’d woes,She lov’d Ulysses (for I have not knownThe Gods assisting so apparentlyA mortal man, as him Minerva there)Should Pallas view thee also with like loveAnd kind solicitude, some few of thoseShould dream, perchance, of wedlock never more.Then answer thus Telemachus return’d.That word’s accomplishment I cannot hope;It promises too much; the thought alone290O’erwhelms me; an event so fortunateWould, unexpected on my part, arrive,Although the Gods themselves should purpose it.But Pallas him answer’d cærulean-eyed.Telemachus! what word was that which leap’dThe iv’ry guard7that should have fenced it in?A God, so willing, could with utmost easeSave any man, howe’er remote. Myself,I had much rather, many woes endured,Revisit home, at last, happy and safe,300Than, sooner coming, die in my own house,As Agamemnon perish’d by the artsOf base Ægisthus and the subtle Queen.Yet not the Gods themselves can save from deathAll-levelling, the man whom most they love,When Fate ordains him once to his last sleep.To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.Howe’er it interest us, let us leaveThis question, Mentor! He, I am assured,Returns no more, but hath already found310A sad, sad fate by the decree of heav’n.But I would now interrogate againNestor, and on a different theme, for himIn human rights I judge, and laws expert,And in all knowledge beyond other men;For he hath govern’d, as report proclaims,Three generations; therefore in my eyesHe wears the awful impress of a God.Oh Nestor, son of Neleus, tell me true;What was the manner of Atrides’ death,320Wide-ruling Agamemnon? Tell me whereWas Menelaus? By what means contrivedÆgisthus to inflict the fatal blow,Slaying so much a nobler than himself?Had not the brother of the Monarch reach’dAchaian Argos yet, but, wand’ring stillIn other climes, his long absence gaveÆgisthus courage for that bloody deed?Whom answer’d the Gerenian Chief renown’d.My son! I will inform thee true; meantime330Thy own suspicions border on the fact.Had Menelaus, Hero, amber hair’d,Ægisthus found living at his returnFrom Ilium, never onhisbones the GreeksHad heap’d a tomb, but dogs and rav’ning fowlsHad torn him lying in the open fieldFar from the town, nor him had woman weptOf all in Greece, for he had foul transgress’d.But we, in many an arduous task engaged,Lay before Ilium; he, the while, secure340Within the green retreats of Argos, foundOccasion apt by flatt’ry to deludeThe spouse of Agamemnon; she, at first,(The royal Clytemnestra) firm refusedThe deed dishonourable (for she boreA virtuous mind, and at her side a bardAttended ever, whom the King, to TroyDeparting, had appointed to the charge.)But when the Gods had purposed to ensnareÆgisthus, then dismissing far remote350The bard into a desart isle, he thereAbandon’d him to rav’ning fowls a prey,And to his own home, willing as himself,Led Clytemnestra. Num’rous thighs he burn’dOn all their hallow’d altars to the Gods,And hung with tap’stry, images, and goldTheir shrines, his great exploit past hope atchiev’d.We (Menelaus and myself) had sailedFrom Troy together, but when we approach’dSunium, headland of th’ Athenian shore,360There Phœbus, sudden, with his gentle shaftsSlew Menelaus’ pilot while he steer’dThe volant bark, Phrontis, Onetor’s son,A mariner past all expert, whom noneIn steerage match’d, what time the tempest roar’d.Here, therefore, Menelaus was detained,Giving his friend due burial, and his ritesFunereal celebrating, though in hasteStill to proceed. But when, with all his fleetThe wide sea traversing, he reach’d at length370Malea’s lofty foreland in his course,Rough passage, then, and perilous he found.Shrill blasts the Thund’rer pour’d into his sails,And wild waves sent him mountainous. His shipsThere scatter’d, some to the Cydonian coastOf Crete he push’d, near where the Jardan flows.Beside the confines of Gortyna stands,Amid the gloomy flood, a smooth rock, steepToward the sea, against whose leftward pointPhæstus by name, the South wind rolls the surge380Amain, which yet the rock, though small, repells.Hither with part he came, and scarce the crewsThemselves escaped, while the huge billows brokeTheir ships against the rocks; yet five he saved,Which winds and waves drove to the Ægyptian shore.Thus he, provision gath’ring as he wentAnd gold abundant, roam’d to distant landsAnd nations of another tongue. Meantime,Ægisthus these enormities at homeDevising, slew Atrides, and supreme390Rul’d the subjected land; sev’n years he reign’dIn opulent Mycenæ, but the eighthFrom Athens brought renown’d Orestes homeFor his destruction, who of life bereavedÆgisthus base assassin of his Sire.Orestes, therefore, the funereal ritesPerforming to his shameless mother’s shadeAnd to her lustful paramour, a feastGave to the Argives; on which self-same dayThe warlike Menelaus, with his ships400All treasure-laden to the brink, arrived.And thou, young friend! from thy forsaken homeRove not long time remote, thy treasures leftAt mercy of those proud, lest they divideAnd waste the whole, rend’ring thy voyage vain.But hence to Menelaus is the courseTo which I counsel thee; for he hath comeOf late from distant lands, whence to escapeNo man could hope, whom tempests first had driv’nDevious into so wide a sea, from which410Themselves the birds of heaven could not arriveIn a whole year, so vast is the expanse.Go, then, with ship and shipmates, or if moreThe land delight thee, steeds thou shalt not wantNor chariot, and my sons shall be thy guidesTo noble Lacedemon, the abodeOf Menelaus; ask from him the truth,Who will not lye, for he is passing wise.While thus he spake, the sun declined, and nightApproaching, blue-eyed Pallas interposed.420O antient King! well hast thou spoken all.But now delay not. Cut ye forth the tongues,8And mingle wine, that (Neptune first invokedWith due libation, and the other Gods)We may repair to rest; for even nowThe sun is sunk, and it becomes us notLong to protract a banquet to the GodsDevote, but in fit season to depart.So spake Jove’s daughter; they obedient heard.The heralds, then, pour’d water on their hands,430And the attendant youths, filling the cups,Served them from left to right. Next all the tonguesThey cast into the fire, and ev’ry guestArising, pour’d libation to the Gods.Libation made, and all with wine sufficed,Godlike Telemachus and Pallas bothWould have return’d, incontinent, on board,But Nestor urged them still to be his guests.Forbid it, Jove, and all the Pow’rs of heav’n!That ye should leave me to repair on board440Your vessel, as I were some needy wretchCloakless and destitute of fleecy storesWherewith to spread the couch soft for myself,Or for my guests. No. I have garments warmAn ample store, and rugs of richest dye;And never shall Ulysses’ son belov’d,My frend’s own son, sleep on a galley’s plankWhile I draw vital air; grant also, heav’n,That, dying, I may leave behind me sonsGlad to accommodate whatever guest!450Him answer’d then Pallas cærulean-eyed.Old Chief! thou hast well said, and reason bidsTelemachus thy kind commands obey.Lethimattend thee hence, that he may sleepBeneath thy roof, but I return on boardMyself, to instruct my people, and to giveAll needful orders; for among them noneIs old as I, but they are youths alike,Coevals of Telemachus, with whomThey have embark’d for friendship’s sake alone.460I therefore will repose myself on boardThis night, and to the Caucons bold in armsWill sail to-morrow, to demand arrearsLong time unpaid, and of no small amount.But, since he is become thy guest, affordMy friend a chariot, and a son of thineWho shall direct his way, nor let him wantOf all thy steeds the swiftest and the best.So saying, the blue-eyed Goddess as upborneOn eagle’s wings, vanish’d; amazement seized470The whole assembly, and the antient KingO’erwhelmed with wonder at that sight, the handGrasp’d of Telemachus, whom he thus bespake.My friend! I prophesy that thou shalt proveNor base nor dastard, whom, so young, the GodsAlready take in charge; for of the Pow’rsInhabitants of heav’n, none else was thisThan Jove’s own daughter Pallas, who amongThe Greecians honour’d most thy gen’rous Sire.But thou, O Queen! compassionate us all,480Myself, my sons, my comfort; give to eachA glorious name, and I to thee will giveFor sacrifice an heifer of the year,Broad-fronted, one that never yet hath borneThe yoke, and will incase her horns with gold.So Nestor pray’d, whom Pallas gracious heard.Then the Gerenian warrior old, beforeHis sons and sons in law, to his abodeMagnificent proceeded: they (arrivedWithin the splendid palace of the King)490On thrones and couches sat in order ranged,Whom Nestor welcom’d, charging high the cupWith wine of richest sort, which she who keptThat treasure, now in the eleventh yearFirst broach’d, unsealing the delicious juice.With this the hoary Senior fill’d a cup,And to the daughter of Jove Ægis-arm’dPouring libation, offer’d fervent pray’r.When all had made libation, and no wishRemain’d of more, then each to rest retired,500And Nestor the Gerenian warrior oldLed thence Telemachus to a carved couchBeneath the sounding portico prepared.Beside him he bade sleep the spearman bold,Pisistratus, a gallant youth, the soleUnwedded in his house of all his sons.Himself in the interior palace lay,Where couch and cov’ring for her antient spouseThe consort Queen had diligent prepar’d.But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,510Had tinged the East, arising from his bed,Gerenian Nestor issued forth, and satBefore his palace-gate on the white stonesResplendent as with oil, on which of oldHis father Neleus had been wont to sit,In council like a God; but he had sought,By destiny dismiss’d long since, the shades.On those stones therefore now, Nestor himself,Achaia’s guardian, sat, sceptre in hand,Where soon his num’rous sons, leaving betimes520The place of their repose, also appeared,Echephron, Stratius, Perseus, Thrasymedes,Aretus and Pisistratus. They placedGodlike Telemachus at Nestor’s side,And the Gerenian Hero thus began.Sons be ye quick—execute with dispatchMy purpose, that I may propitiate firstOf all the Gods Minerva, who herselfHath honour’d manifest our hallow’d feast.Haste, one, into the field, to order thence530An ox, and let the herdsman drive it home.Another, hasting to the sable barkOf brave Telemachus, bring hither allHis friends, save two, and let a third commandLaerceus, that he come to enwrap with goldThe victim’s horns. Abide ye here, the rest,And bid my female train (for I intendA banquet) with all diligence provideSeats, stores of wood, and water from the rock.He said, whom instant all obey’d. The ox540Came from the field, and from the gallant shipThe ship-mates of the brave Telemachus;Next, charged with all his implements of art,His mallet, anvil, pincers, came the smithTo give the horns their gilding; also camePallas herself to her own sacred rites.Then Nestor, hoary warrior, furnish’d gold,Which, hammer’d thin, the artist wrapp’d aroundThe victim’s horns, that seeing him attiredSo costly, Pallas might the more be pleased.550Stratius and brave Echephron introducedThe victim by his horns; Aretus broughtA laver in one hand, with flow’rs emboss’d,And in his other hand a basket storedWith cakes, while warlike Thrasymedes, arm’dWith his long-hafted ax, prepared to smiteThe ox, and Perseus to receive the blood.The hoary Nestor consecrated firstBoth cakes and water, and with earnest pray’rTo Pallas, gave the forelock to the flames.560When all had worshipp’d, and the broken cakesSprinkled, then godlike Thrasymedes drewClose to the ox, and smote him. Deep the edgeEnter’d, and senseless on the floor he fell.Then Nestor’s daughters, and the consorts allOf Nestor’s sons, with his own consort, chasteEurydice, the daughter eldest-bornOf Clymenus, in one shrill orisonVocif’rous join’d, while they, lifting the ox,Held him supported firmly, and the prince570Of men, Pisistratus, his gullet pierced.Soon as the sable blood had ceased, and lifeHad left the victim, spreading him abroad,With nice address they parted at the jointHis thighs, and wrapp’d them in the double cawl,Which with crude slices thin they overspread.Nestor burn’d incense, and libation pour’dLarge on the hissing brands, while him beside,Busy with spit and prong, stood many a youthTrain’d to the task. The thighs consumed, each tookHis portion of the maw, then, slashing well581The remnant, they transpierced it with the spitsNeatly, and held it reeking at the fire.Meantime the youngest of the daughters fairOf Nestor, beauteous Polycaste, laved,Anointed, and in vest and tunic cloathedTelemachus, who, so refresh’d, stepp’d forthFrom the bright laver graceful as a God,And took his seat at antient Nestor’s side.The viands dress’d, and from the spits withdrawn,590They sat to share the feast, and princely youthsArising, gave them wine in cups of gold.When neither hunger now nor thirst remain’dUnsated, thus Gerenian Nestor spake.My sons, arise, lead forth the sprightly steeds,And yoke them, that Telemachus may go.So spake the Chief, to whose commands his sons,Obedient, yoked in haste the rapid steeds,And the intendant matron of the storesDisposed meantime within the chariot, bread600And wine, and dainties, such as princes eat.Telemachus into the chariot firstAscended, and beside him, next, his placePisistratus the son of Nestor took,Then seiz’d the reins, and lash’d the coursers on.They, nothing loth, into the open plainFlew, leaving lofty Pylus soon afar.Thus, journeying, they shook on either sideThe yoke all day, and now the setting sunTo dusky evening had resign’d the roads,610When they to Pheræ came, and the abodeReach’d of Diocles, whose illustrious SireOrsilochus from Alpheus drew his birth,And there, with kindness entertain’d, they slept.But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,Look’d rosy from the East, yoking the steeds,They in their sumptuous chariot sat again.The son of Nestor plied the lash, and forthThrough vestibule and sounding porticoThe royal coursers, not unwilling, flew.620A corn-invested land receiv’d them next,And there they brought their journey to a close,So rapidly they moved; and now the sunWent down, and even-tide dimm’d all the ways.
7Ερκος οδοντων. Prior, alluding to this expression, ludicrously renders it—“When words like these in vocal breathBurst from his twofold hedge of teeth.”8It is said to have been customary in the days of Homer, when the Greeks retired from a banquet to their beds, to cut out the tongues of the victims, and offer them to the Gods in particular who presided over conversation.
7Ερκος οδοντων. Prior, alluding to this expression, ludicrously renders it—“When words like these in vocal breathBurst from his twofold hedge of teeth.”
7Ερκος οδοντων. Prior, alluding to this expression, ludicrously renders it—
“When words like these in vocal breathBurst from his twofold hedge of teeth.”
“When words like these in vocal breathBurst from his twofold hedge of teeth.”
8It is said to have been customary in the days of Homer, when the Greeks retired from a banquet to their beds, to cut out the tongues of the victims, and offer them to the Gods in particular who presided over conversation.
8It is said to have been customary in the days of Homer, when the Greeks retired from a banquet to their beds, to cut out the tongues of the victims, and offer them to the Gods in particular who presided over conversation.